The Gift
by dawn341
Summary: John struggles with his first Christmas on Moya


The Gift by Dawn Cunningham

Note: This is an early first season story that I wrote many years ago.

Commander John Crichton whistled lightly as he worked on his Farscape module. It was one of his two methods of escape, although he never seemed to find much time to do it since he'd come through a wormhole and had been brought aboard Moya.

He paused for a moment, reflecting back on that time. With perfect recall, he could remember his last chat with his dad. Talking to his childhood friend, and now fellow scientist, D.K.. The space shuttle liftoff. Then the Farscape module in flight far above the Earth's atmosphere.

It was supposed to be a simple test. Just prove a new theory he and D.K. had come up with. All he had to do was ricochet off Earth's gravity and prove that it would exponentially increase the speed of his module.

Instead, he'd been sucked into a wormhole, and ended up who-knew-where, right in the middle of a battle between Peacekeepers and some escaped prisoners who'd commandeered the leviathan prison ship, Moya, a biomechanoid ship. Half biological being, half mechanical. Strange.

And somehow, he'd joined forces with those prisoners.

Not that he'd had much choice.

His module had collided with a Peacekeeper fighter, sending it and its pilot crashing into an asteroid. Unfortunately, the pilot's brother had been Captain Crais who was in charge of the Peacekeeper armada.

Now, the Peacekeepers - especially Crais - were after him, calling him a murderer. The fact that it had been an accident didn't seem to matter. Or that the other ship had been the one to run into his module, not the other way around.

So, now he was stuck with this ragtag group of people.

There was Ka D'Argo, the Luxan warrior. A big guy who was at least seven feet tall. He had tentacles growing from the back of his head. They were starting to work toward friendship, but were still circling each other like dogs trying to establish superiority.

Next came Zhaan. She was blue, had no hair that he could see and was a Pa'u priestess. She was soft-spoken at most times, and the most understanding of the group. She knew that John had a lot of lessons to learn about this universe. Just because it took him ten minutes to figure out how to open a door didn't make him an idiot. Zhaan understood that. She kind of reminded him of Troi from Star Trek, the Next Generation.

Then there was Rygel - no, make that Rygel, The Sixteenth, Dominar to over 600 billion subjects. Except he'd been falsely imprisoned and another ruled in his place - at least that was his story. He was a lot harder to describe. He was only two feet tall and must have had some kind of amphibian in his genetic tree. Or maybe a slug. His arms and hands seemed to be best suited to stuffing his face with food. He was imperious, devious, and determined to treat them all like his subjects - not that anyone paid much attention to him. So far, John hadn't found any common ground with him.

Pilot wasn't really one of their group, although he was a vital player in their lives. He was a multi-armed, mushroom-headed critter whose face reminded him of a turtle. His race could only go into space if they were linked to a leviathan ship. He had his own place where he helped Moya with the control of the ship, but he couldn't leave there because he was directly connected to the ship. Pilot was in control of all the little robots - called DRDs - that helped to maintain Moya. Normally, he just communicated using holograms. It was hard to get friendly with something like that.

The final member of the crew was the closest to being human, and yet she was still an alien. Officer Aeryn Sun. A Sebacean Peacekeeper who'd been captured shortly after he'd been brought on board. She'd make a great Green Beret or Navy Seal. She was tough. Determined. Ruthless. Beautiful.

When he'd first seen her face, he'd been attracted to her. Not that she would ever consider John Crichton as anything more than a nuisance. It was because of him that she'd been classified as irreversibly contaminated by Crais. The penalty was death or banishment. So, now she was a somewhat reluctant member of their crew.

It was hard to decide whether the Peacekeepers were the good guys or the bad guys. Aeryn seemed to think they were the good guys - the ones who kept peace in this part of the galaxy. They were also responsible for the prison ships. John, on the other hand, wasn't so certain. They imprisoned people for things they didn't do. And they were ready to kill Aeryn simply because she'd spent some time with an 'unclassified alien contact' - namely, one John Crichton.

At best, they all tolerated him. He was useful when it came to scientific things. Not that they had much confidence in his plans, but he felt he'd done pretty good so far. If it hadn't been for his theories of acceleration using planetary gravity, they would never have gotten away from Crais.

It hadn't been easy fitting in to this universe. Thanks to translator microbes that had been injected into him, he was able to understand what everyone was saying. It just didn't always make sense. Arns instead of hours. Microts instead of seconds. Weekens instead of weeks. Cycles instead of years. Of course, they didn't match exactly. That made life even more difficult. The things they considered so basic that a child could figure out had a tendency to stump him.

Things like opening doors.

But he was learning more and more every day.

Still, there were times when he felt so alone.

John climbed into his module and ran a quick systems check. Everything was looking good until he saw one of the displays, and realized what it meant. His good mood disappeared in an instant. With a curse, he slammed back the canopy and climbed out of the module.

He stalked toward the passageway, intent on getting back to his room. It was his only sanctuary on the ship. Although, his room was one of the old prison cells. They didn't offer much privacy.

John almost crashed into Aeryn as he went through the door. He quickly grabbed her to steady her. She was dressed in her usual black pants, but had a black top on that displayed way too much of her midriff for John's comfort. She had a black jacket in on hand.

"Crichton, will you watch where you are going?" she demanded, somewhat angrily.

"Sorry," he muttered, still intent on getting back to his room.

"It's time for your hand-to-hand combat training," she continued.

"Not today. Find someone else to beat up." He didn't need to be humiliated over and over again by her fighting prowess. Not today.

"Crichton, you agreed to let me train you. The next time we run into trouble, I want to know that you just might be able to help us get out of it. Besides, there is more to physical conditioning besides hogging around Moya's corridors."

"That's jogging, not hogging," he snapped back. John knew he was being unreasonable, but he didn't care. Not now. He continued on down the passageway, ignoring Aeryn's angry demands that he come back. At least she had enough sense to not follow him.

His hope of reaching his room without seeing any others was dashed when he saw D'Argo striding down the corridor toward him.

"Crichton, there you are. Have you been messing with Moya's systems again? There's a blockage in her amnexus system."

Why did they always blame him? "No, I haven't been doing anything. And I'm sure I'd only get in your way while you try to fix it, so you can do it yourself." John quickly skirted the taller man, and continued on to his room.

His other biggest way of escaping the craziness that his life had become was to talk to his dad or D.K.. Well, maybe talking wasn't quite the word to use, but he'd already recorded hours of messages on his tape recorder. Even if he ever got home, he wasn't sure if he'd ever let them listen to the tapes. Some of the messages were made at his lowest moments.

Like this one.

John pulled out his flight bag where he kept his tape recorder stashed. It didn't pay to leave things lying around. Rygel considered anything in open sight as his property. He unzipped the side compartment, reached in, and found nothing.

Could this day get any worse?

He quickly searched the rest of the bag, then his room. There was no sign of his tape recorder at all. Struggling to control his anger, he tapped on his communicator. "Rygel, you little slug! You have exactly 60 seconds... uh... microts to return my recorder! Don't make me come look for you!"

Up in the command center, Zhaan exchanged concerned looks with Aeryn who'd just joined her. "Is there something wrong with John?" she asked.

Aeryn shrugged, tossing her jacket on one of the consoles. "He's acting like... Crichton."

Zhaan nodded her head, needing no further explanation. "Yes, sometimes he is hard to understand."

Aeryn rolled her eyes. "Just sometimes?"

Zhaan threw a chastising look at the Sebacean. "Give him time, Aeryn. He can be a useful ally once he learns more of this universe." She looked over at one of the consoles, then tapped on her communicator. "John, your recording device is here in the command center. You must have left it here on your last watch."

For the longest time, there was no response, then a more subdued John responded, "I'll be right up to get it."

"Well, I don't intend to be here when he gets here," Aeryn stated firmly. She headed out the door, taking a different passageway than the one that lead to Crichton's quarters. Of course, that assumed that he didn't get lost on his way to command. It wouldn't be the first time. She was halfway to the cargo bay where she planned to do her physical conditioning when she realized that she'd left her jacket behind. She argued with herself for several microts before turning around to retrieve it.

If her luck was good, John would have been there and gone by the time she got back to command.

* FAR * FAR *

John knew he owed just about everyone on board an apology. The only ones he hadn't been rude to so far today was Pilot and Zhaan. And now he was on the way up to the command center where he'd probably manage to say the wrong thing to them, too.

Somehow, he managed to get to the command center without going astray. Moya's corridors all looked alike, with forks that branched off in multiple directions. There were times when he'd been tempted to paint signs indicating which way to go to various places on the ship. Only the fact that he'd be painting on a living creature kept him from doing it.

When he entered the command center, only Zhaan was present. She was dressed in her normal flowing blue robes. She smiled at him, then pointed to his tape recorder. He walked over and grabbed it, intent on escaping, but he knew it was too much to hope for.

"Is something troubling you, John?" Zhaan asked gently.

He almost kept going, but he couldn't do that to her. A part of him wanted to talk to her, while the other part ordered him to flee as fast as he could. Sometimes, Zhaan managed to pull the deepest secrets out of him.

But maybe that would be good.

"I wouldn't want to bore you." It seemed like a good compromise. Put the ball back into Zhaan's court.

"You wouldn't bore me. Maybe talking about it will help."

John turned so he was staring out into space. He could almost believe that he was standing in his dad's backyard, staring up at the stars. "I just realized what tomorrow is," he blurted out. "It's a very special holiday. A day to spend with your family."

"A holly day? A day for plants?"

John sighed. "No, a holiday - kind of like a festival or a celebration. You spend the day with your family and friends. You give gifts. You eat too much and watch football."

"Ahhh, a feast day. There are many special days in everyone's culture. Unfortunately, we can't always be there to celebrate them. Especially when we were all locked up by the Peacekeepers."

Shame washed through John as he realized that his shipmates had been away from their families for a lot longer than he had been. Maybe the first time they hadn't been able to spend a special day with their families had been just as hard.

"I'm sorry, it's just that I should be at home with my dad tomorrow. We've always spent it together, but I'm out here, and he's at home - all alone. He shouldn't be alone - not tomorrow!"

"What is so special about tomorrow? Tell me about this holiday of yours."

John sighed again. How did he explain it so Zhaan would understand. "We call it Christmas. It's supposed to be a religious holiday, but we weren't all that religious. But we always spent it together."

"Your father and you?"

"Yeah, and my... mom." John struggled to force down the lump in his throat. "She would always wake me up by tapping on my door and calling out 'Merry Christmas, sleepy-head'. If I woke up before she tapped on my door, I never got up. I'd just lay in bed until she did because I knew she would be disappointed if she didn't get to wake me up. It was a tradition. She used to love Christmas so much."

"Used to?" Zhaan's calm voice made it easier.

"She died five years ago. Just a few days before Christmas." Surreptitiously, he wiped away the tear that had rolled down his cheek. "Every year since then, my dad and I have visited her grave together on Christmas day." He closed his eyes, struggling with the vision of his dad standing at his mom's graveside all alone. Even worse was the vision of two tombstones. For all he knew, he'd been declared dead by now and his father had two graves to visit.

A soft touch on his shoulder made him realize that Zhaan had moved closer to him.

"And now your father must do that alone," she pointed out, almost as if she could read his thoughts.

"Yeah. I want to be there with him."

"We would all like to be with our loved ones," Zhaan pointed out. "But sometimes all we can do is be there with them in spirit."

"Dad always said Mom would be there in spirit at Christmas. The year she died was very hard - especially when I found a gift under the tree from her. She'd bought it and wrapped it before she'd gone into the hospital. It was like she knew she wouldn't be there, but she wanted to make sure I got a gift from her." John swiped at the tears that were rolling down his face.

"Every year after that, Dad would buy a gift and label it 'Merry Christmas from Mom.' He denied any knowledge of it, and I didn't ask after the first year. It made it seem like she was there with us. Like she'd come out of the kitchen at any moment."

"What a wonderful idea. And I'm sure that some part of her spirit was in each of those gifts. Just as I'm sure that some part of her spirit will be with both you and your father, tomorrow."

John couldn't stop the hope that sprang up deep inside of himself. "Do you really think so?" he asked, turning to stare into Zhaan's face. She was a priestess. She understood spiritual things.

"Yes, I do. And if you concentrate hard enough, I'm sure you will feel her and your father here with you on this special day. Just as your father will feel you there with him, even if you aren't there."

John managed to find a smile. "Thanks, Zhaan. I can almost feel my parents here with me."

"Just remember that you are not alone. You have friends here, too. Don't be afraid to ask for help from them on difficult days. They have been through this before, and would be glad to help you if they know that the day means something special to you."

John wasn't so sure about that, but he'd give it a try. "I'll remember," he promised. "Thanks again, Zhaan."

"I'm glad I could be of some help," she said with a smile.

Feeling better, John headed back to his room. He still wanted to make a recording to his father, but now he knew it wouldn't be so difficult.

Aeryn had to duck out of the way quickly, to keep John from realizing that she'd been listening in on his conversation with Zhaan. She hadn't meant to do that. All she had wanted was her jacket, but when she'd heard John talking about his mother, she had been frozen in place.

She didn't remember her parents. Like many Peacekeeper children, she'd been born and bred to be a soldier, and had been raised on a ship without knowing her parents. She'd never told anyone about the night when her mother had come to visit her. She'd told her that Aeryn had been born from love, not duty. That her mother had loved her father, and they had decided to have a child. It was practically unheard of in the Peacekeeper world.

Sometimes, she wondered if she'd only dreamt that night.

She envied John of his relationship with his parents - although she'd deny it if someone so much as suggested it. To have traditions that they celebrated cycle after cycle. Still, maybe the Peacekeeper way was the best way. John sounded devastated by the death of his mother. If you didn't get emotionally involved with someone, then you couldn't be hurt that badly.

It gave her something to think about as she headed for her room. Physical conditioning could wait until tomorrow.

* FAR * FAR *

Aeryn couldn't stop thinking about the tale that John had told Zhaan about how his father would always give him something from his mother. It seemed to mean so much to him. She had no idea what kind of gift he would get - it was hard to understand what humans liked. Still, if it would help him get through this special day of his, then maybe she should try something.

She got out of bed, trying to figure out what she had that she could give as a gift. It wasn't like she'd brought many things with her when she'd been captured by Moya. After all, she'd been in a prowler and involved in a space battle.

There was only one thing she could come up with. It was her first medal for bravery. She often wore it on the undershirt of her uniform where it couldn't be seen. She considered it her good luck charm - something that would be frowned on by her superiors. When she'd first been captured by Moya, then declared irreversibly contaminated by Crais, she'd thought her charm had failed her.

Now, she wasn't so sure.

She took out the shiny piece of metal, only half the size of the palm of her hand, and studied it carefully. If there was ever a person who'd shown signs of bravery, it was John Crichton. He'd been thrust into a world he didn't understand, and he still managed to help them all escape.

It would be hard to give up, but this seemed like a good cause. He mentioned something about wrapping the gift, so she found a small piece of cloth and wound it around the medal. Next, she would need an accomplice. She dressed quickly, then headed for Pilot's bay.

* FAR * FAR *

John reluctantly climbed out of bed the next morning. He was tempted to just hide away in his room, but he was a member of a crew and had duties to perform. When he opened the door, he almost fell over the DRD that was on the floor in front of it. A small cloth-wrapped bundle was clasped in one of its pincers.

"What have you got there?"

The DRD just beeped at him, and waved the pincer. John tapped on his communicator. "Pilot, there's a DRD here. What does it want me to do?"

"Hmmm... It wants me to tell you 'Merry Christmas from Mom and Dad.' Do you know what the means?"

"Yeah." John could barely get the word out. He slowly sank down in front of the robot, then carefully took the package in shaking hands. The DRD beeped, but remained where he was.

For the longest time, John could only stare at the package. He finally unwrapped it, discovering a piece of shiny metal with a word written on it. Of course, he had no idea what it meant, or even what language it was written in.

"It means bravery," Pilot's voice explained. Obviously he was watching John through the DRD's sensors.

"Thanks, Pilot. But why did you give it to me, now?"

"It's not from me. Someone else asked the DRD to deliver it."

"Zhaan." John figured it had to be her after their chat the night before.

"I promised not to say." The DRD beeped again, then rolled away.

John carefully pinned the medal onto his T-shirt. He'd wear it today, then put it away where it would be safe. He didn't want to risk losing it, or getting some kind of alien goo all over it. Then he headed for the dining area. If he couldn't be with his family on this day, he could be with his friends. Well, at least his shipmates. Maybe with their help, he could still make this a special day to be remembered. Either way, he intended to spread a little Christmas spirit around.

D'Argo and Zhaan were there already when he walked into the room.

"Merry Christmas!" he greeted them loudly.

Zhaan returned the greeting while D'Argo just looked confused.

"Thanks for the present," John added, giving Zhaan a big smile.

"What present?" Now Zhaan looked confused. "I didn't give you a present."

For a moment, John almost believed her, but it had to be her. "Thanks anyway. Hey, D, did you get that problem fixed with Moya's amnexus system? I can give you a hand if you need it."

"No, the DRDs managed to find the problem."

"Good. Good. I'm sorry - I should have helped out last night." John went over to the food storage area, and got out some food cubes. Not exactly the big breakfast that he would have had at home, but it was all they had.

Rygel flew into the room on his throne sled. "Merry Christmas, Sparky," John greeted him. "Here, take these food cubes. I'll get some more." He set the tray down on a table in front of Rygel. "I'm sorry I accused you of stealing my tape recorder."

"Hmmmph... I'll forgive you this time, but don't make that mistake again." Rygel grabbed one of the food cubes and stuffed it into his mouth.

Aeryn had deliberately delayed joining the rest of the crew. She didn't want to be alone with John in case she gave away the fact that she'd been responsible for his gift. She immediately spotted the medal on John's T-shirt as soon as she walked into the dining area. Knowing that he'd must have liked his gift caused strange feelings to stir inside her. Something that a Peacekeeper soldier shouldn't feel.

"Merry Christmas, Aeryn," John greeted her with a big smile.

She threw him a suspicious glance, even though she knew what he was talking about. She had to keep up appearances. Besides, if anyone ever knew how much John's smile affected her, she'd never hear the end of it. "If you say so, though I don't see anything merry around here except you. Is this some kind of human thing?"

"Oh yeah. Just sit down, and I'll tell you all about Santa Claus and Rudolph, the red-nosed, reindeer."

The End.


End file.
